Half of Whole
by Liari
Summary: Prequel of sorts to the songfic series. Five semi-drabbles come together. Prepare for angst! Senshi/Generals, and Usa/Mamo
1. Senshi

_A/N- Okay, this is a compilation of five drabble-like things that occur right before the events in the songfic series. Please enjoy the angst. Also, the next chapter of CtM is halfway through, so yay! Enjoy the read, and I look forward to any reviews._

Makoto didn't normally drink. Tonight, though, she thought she might have a glass of red wine with the pasta she'd whipped up. So she opened a bottle of Chianti (yes, she knew how cliché that was, she just didn't care; Chianti really does go well with pasta) and set the table. For one. As always.

She sighed. Honestly, she didn't know why she didn't just eat out of the pot. Really, there was no reason to dirty her serving dishes. Still… It was just more civilized, she thought. Even if it was lonely.

She ate the pasta, enjoyed the tang of the light tomato basil sauce, drank her wine. Drank more wine. Drank wine until the bottle was less than halfway full. As she looked at her fifth glass of wine a little hazily, she could admit to herself why she'd opened the bottle. _I miss him._ She hated acknowledging that. _He betrayed me, broke my heart, tore apart our kingdom, __**killed **__me, and…I miss him._ She carefully set the glass down before she drooped forward and cradled her head in her hands, elbows on the table.

It was the same battle every time. Fight not to remember, fight not to care, fight not to cry. Fight her heart with her head. Sometimes she won; most times she lost. This time was one of the latter. She felt the heat of her own tears and despised herself for them even as she couldn't stop. _I shouldn't, I shouldn't miss the bastard…_

But she did. She missed his voice, the soft, mellow tones of it like melted chocolate. She missed his eyes, the warmth and distant look of dreaming always in them. The memory of his hands, his soft, gentle hands, still haunted her with occasional phantom touches on her shoulder, hand, cheek. And the worst thing of all? No matter how many men she tried to date, that ephemeral caress was the one she craved, and could never again have.

"Damn you, Nephrite," she whispered, her voice thick with the tears she'd cried, the ones she knew she'd cry again. Slowly, almost painfully, she rose from the table and swiped at her eyes briefly, rubbed out the last traces of her hurt. Her cleanup wasn't as brisk as it normally was, but it did get done. When all that was left was the mostly empty bottle of wine she stopped for a moment and looked at it. Then she corked it and stuffed it in the fridge to use in cooking later; she wouldn't waste anything she didn't need to. With that, she went to bed, and to dreams that left tears on her pillow.

000

Rei tried to resist. Every night she came to meditate, and every night she struggled against the self-destructive urge that came upon her. _Just one more time, that's all, just once more…_became her chant as she reluctantly gave in to it, the promise one she'd made many times.

Her hands went through the familiar motions, and the fire flared. There he stood, wreathed in flame. "Jadeite…" her whisper came hoarse and yearning. Hair golden as the sun, eyes bluer than the hottest flame, and that smile that melted her heart even as she loathed him for it. Straight as an arrow he stood in her fire, a perfect image, statue still. _I won't make it worse, this time, _she vowed, _I won't, I won't… _She stayed strong for a minute or so before she crumbled. _Just once more..._

A flicker of will, and the statue came to life. Eyes flashed with the spark of life and laughter, mouth quirked in that sardonic smile, a hand swept through short hair. His arms opened and he looked at her, called her name in a silent mockery that broke her heart all over again. Anger, longing, hate, grief, and love burst in her chest, and she staggered to her feet, took a single step towards him.

Emotion flashed across her face for an unending moment as she wavered before this reflection of the man she'd loved, still loved. Finally she fell to her knees, and banished his likeness from her fire with a slashing motion. Only then did she realize she was crying as her fingers danced across her wet cheeks. She looked at the moisture on her fingertips briefly, then clenched her hands into fists, uncompromisingly hard. The pain of nails biting into flesh was nothing compared to the raging feelings that whirled inside her heart. So much anger, so much furious anger...she couldn't hold it all in, it was going to claw out of her... She bent her head, breathed in, and exhaled. False calm settled over her; it was enough for now.

She left the fire, settled into bed. Her eyes closed, and she knew what she'd dream of tonight. _This was the last time, _she murmured to herself, but she knew. She knew she'd torture herself tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. She even knew why. Because as much as she hated doing it, much as she wanted to hate _him_…she couldn't help but bring him to life for that one transitory moment each night; it was all she would ever have of him again, and she wouldn't give that up. She sighed, and turned over, and as her hand reached out to the man she never expected to truly see again, she slipped into sleep.

000

Ami swam harder. She pushed her body, goaded her muscles into more, more, more. Her form cut through the water ruthlessly as each breath burned in her chest. _Stroke, stroke, harder, faster._ She flipped, feet braced against the wall of the pool, and thrust. _One more lap, one more…_

When she reached the other end of the pool she surfaced, gasped. _It's not working…it never works…_ She shook her head, flung water everywhere. Tried to pretend that the droplets on her cheeks were from the pool. Hands on the rough edge, she pulled herself up, turned to sit with her legs in the water. Bent over to cover her face with her hands.

_Why can't I forget? I just want to forget…these memories are too cruel. _She wearily dropped her hands, the light from the pool reflecting up at her, those lights the only illumination in the building. The apartment staff had turned off all the other lights at ten as they always did; no one knew about her midnight swims, nor did she want them to. Using the indoor pool allowed her privacy, and the fact that being inside a building meant no one would hear her splashing was also pertinent.

Blue eyes stared down into the depths of the water, but they didn't see the bottom of the pool. A man stood there, a man with wavy, strawberry blond hair held back in a ponytail, a man with laughing green eyes and a mischievous smile. She saw him sitting quietly with a book, bent over schematics furrowing his brow, laughing with his friends and comrades in arms, holding a hand out to her, holding her close, kissing her… She closed her eyes against the memories. _No_…

Her breath hitched briefly. "Remembering you hurts so much, Zoisite…" Her confession echoed off the walls, surrounded her with his name. She wrapped her arms around herself, tried to pretend it was him. "I miss you, love…" A broken admission, drawn from her reluctantly. _My fault, _her mind whispered viciously. _My fault he's gone, didn't protect him well enough, didn't explain things well enough, didn't show him I loved him enough…_ Her knees drew up, and she hugged them to her as she lowered her forehead to them, eyes still closed.

"I'm sorry…" She said it every night, that tear-choked apology. She didn't say it near enough. When she could breathe again around the guilt, she reached out a hand for her towel and stood up, dried off, and made her way back to her apartment. There she showered and dressed in her pajamas, then slipped into bed and turned off the lights, another night gone without him.

000

Minako pounded on the bag. _Left, right, kick, left, right, kick… _Sweat dripped off her, and the only reason it didn't get in her eyes was because of her neon orange headband. Though it wasn't working as well as usual, she tried to tell herself as her sight blurred. _Left, right, kick, left, right, kick… _She breathed in rhythmic puffs, and the sound of impact on leather filled her ears.

_Left, right, kick, switch, right, left, kick, right, left, kick… _Each blow sent tremors through her, quivers of reaction to the thoughts she attempted to suppress. She centered herself in her physicality, stubbornly refused to think. _Right, left, kick, right, left me, left me, he left me…dammit! _Mina exploded against the bag, then sagged against it as it swung back towards her. She thumped one fist against the black surface half-heartedly. _Damn it. _Her forehead rested on the bag and she closed her eyes against the sting in them.

Set free, her thoughts transformed her reality. The leather of the bag she leaned on became the firm surface of his chest in his armor, the ache in her muscles became the aftermath of an afternoon of loving. Then everything twisted; the burn in her lungs caused by his sword through her, the salt on her lips no longer of sweat but of blood. She wrenched her eyes open with a muffled cry.

"Kunzite…" His name was a low moan, infused with anguish. She blinked slowly, cleared her head of the sensations of memory, bittersweet and so _there _that it took her a minute to shake them off. A sob wracked her for the split second they lingered before she asserted her steely control once more. She gazed soberly at the black leather in front of her face. _Enough for today, I think. It won't make a difference, anyways, if I keep going. Already did my work out, and it's not going to keep the thoughts away. As if it ever does… _She pushed away from the bag and wiped an arm across her brow, by all appearances back in possession of herself. She gathered her things and walked out of the gym as if her heart weren't breaking as it did every day she lived without him, and made her way home to her empty bed, where she lay herself down and prayed not to dream.

000

Usagi looked out the window and sighed.

Mamoru looked over his paper at her, slightly bemused by the sight of his wife so dramatically disconsolate and posing on the window sill. "Is there something the matter, Usa?" She turned surprisingly somber blue eyes on him, and he immediately straightened, now honestly worried. "Usa? Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

She slid off the sill and walked over to him, pushed the paper aside so she could sit in his lap and look up at him earnestly. He traced a finger down her cheek, and gave her his full attention. "Mamo-love," she hesitated, "I've been thinking…" He nodded and kept silent, waited for her to expand the sentence. Her eyes as she gazed at him were serious and sad, and made him want to cuddle her. He settled for stroking a hand down her silky hair.

"The girls, ever since they got their memories back, they've all been so distracted…Mako cooks more than ever, Rei is snappier than normal, Ami always looks so tired, and Mina…" Her face crumpled with apprehension. "It's like looking at a sunlamp rather than the sun; she still smiles, but they aren't _her _smiles anymore." She sighed, and leaned her head against him. "And I think I know why."

Mamoru rubbed her arms comfortingly, wanting so much to take away the hurt he saw in her eyes. He hadn't noticed about the girls…and he should have. He felt the guilt worm its way into his stomach, unsettling him. "Why, Usa?"

She tucked her head on his shoulder, and danced her fingers across his chest in a nervous fidget. "Because they remember their soul mates, and they miss them."

It took all he had not to jolt upright, and as it was he jerked slightly, which caused Usagi to squeak and grab hold of him so she didn't fall off his lap. His eyes were wide as he looked down at his wife, pupils dilated so that only a thin band of midnight blue showed around black. "They remember?" he whispered. She nodded. "All of it?" She nodded again. He closed his eyes and groaned, and held Usagi to him tightly. "Oh, god… The girls…" Then the rest of her statement hit him. "They remember all of it…and they miss them?"

The smile Usa gave him was small, secret, and almost sad. "Yes. They remember everything…and it doesn't matter." She pressed her forehead to his, locked their eyes. He drowned in summer sky blue as she spoke softly. "Their hearts reach out for the ones they remember, and it's tearing them apart. The future we're building needs to have my soldiers happy, Mamo-love. _I _need them happy. Please, call Setsuna and let us bring your generals back. With your stones, we can, I know we can. Ami will help, I'm sure. Will you do this for me, love? For the girls?"

She waited for his answer; his mind swirled with so many thoughts he couldn't think. _The girls know…but don't care? Or maybe it's not that they don't care, but can forgive? I forgive them, they know that, I still listen to their stones, but if Usagi and Setsuna can bring their bodies back…don't the girls deserve that? Hell, don't my __**men**__ deserve that? If we can give them the same happiness that Usa and I share…we should. We should. _His decision made, he looked at the woman on his lap, this caring, loving woman, and smiled. "Let's call Setsuna, love. I'll go get their stones out for you."

Her beaming smile was all the reward he could ever want, and the joy that filled him at the thought of regaining his friends, his confidants, his generals, made the world seem brighter. _I look forward to welcoming you home, my brothers. _


	2. Shitennou

_A/N- I wasn't actually planning on doing anything more with this story, but...well, the guys wanted their part in there, too. So, here I give to you the generals' side of the tale. Please enjoy and review._

Nephrite thought

Nephrite thought. Within the prison of dark green stone in which he resided he turned memories over, examined them. Sought every step taken on the fool's path he'd so eagerly followed, weighed intentions against truth. He knew he came up short; always did.

The only interruptions to his musings were when the prince asked advice of them, contact he was happy to have even if it did take him away from his dreaming. For he dreamt when he was not thinking, dreamt of ivy eyes and oaken hair, a tall, slim Amazon who fought with all the fierce strength of a lion, and who loved with all the gentleness of a lamb. One would think, he reflected, that a woman of such contradiction would be convoluted and sly, but she was neither. Complex, yes, but of a straightforward nature was his Mako.

He missed her. There were times in this changeless confinement that he wished he were truly made of cold stone. But his was still the mind of a man, and with that came all the emotions of one. So Nephrite endured, and thought.

000

Jadeite despaired. He beat his fury against walls of palest, translucent green to no avail, screamed within his own mind as he no longer had a throat, and sank into misery when he wearied of his futile rages. This cycle continued unabated except for those times when Mamoru/Endymion came. At least when that happened he was able to draw up out of himself and interact with his lord and the others. Jadeite secretly prayed for these disruptions, craved communication; when he focused on others it was easier to distance himself from the knowledge of what he'd done.

To her. What he'd done to her. His beautiful, spirited, clever fire-eyes. He relived the shock of her death, her death at his own damned hands, every moment he wasn't distracted by someone outside himself. How, how could she forgive him such a transgression? Such an irredeemable sin against her. He knew her; his love was no saint. He'd never wanted her to be, but now…now he wondered if his imperfect angel would be able to absolve him of his crime; he feared that the answer was no. Rei was a creature of passion, strong and wild. Oh, how he remembered that passion… And now, after he had crossed the one line that may damn him for the rest of eternity, he wondered if that same passion would be turned against him. And because he wondered, Jadeite despaired.

000

Zoisite grieved. His mind swirled with pain and darkness in the same way purple and green whorled upon his stone. Guilt and anguish intertwined, spiraled him down. In the depths of his soul he was surrounded by boundless blackness, the stain of his actions plain to his stricken eyes.

The only light he ever saw-besides that his prince shed into his dreary world on occasion- was the memory of Ami. Her smile, her laugh, the endless, gentle blue of her eyes. Sometimes he could almost forget how his vile deeds affected her when he remembered her in the time before, but even then he could never forget the one thing he could never forgive himself for. He hoped, though, how he hoped that his sweet water sprite might forgive him if he debased himself enough, humbled himself for her. He hoped because he remembered how she'd touched him with tenderness even as he'd killed her. How her eyes had mourned him as she died next to him. How her fingers had tangled with his after he'd realized what he'd done, comforted him.

Those were the reasons he reached for atonement now, offered up his damaged soul in penitence with the knowledge that it would never be enough. Her eyes haunted him, but they also gave him the strength to stay sane. For if he hadn't clung to the memory of her, he would fall into madness, slip into lunacy without effort with the remembrance of her sorrow. He was to blame for her pain. He was at fault for all of her suffering, and he alone bore the burden of dismissing her efforts to warn him of what was to come. This he knew, and accepted; Zoisite grieved.

000

Kunzite waited. Not with patience, nor hope, nor peace. He waited with inevitability inside the confines of faintest rose, mind nearly as still as the stone around him. Centered, mute but for when his liege desired his knowledge or opinion, he remained. Like granite left behind by the tides and winds of time, he merely was.

However, the cliffs of his heart were not untouched. Etched upon them was the figure of a woman. Dancing, singing, fighting, leaping, loving, every movement possible was portrayed on the face of the rock that made his soul. In a way, he appreciated the paradox; the icon of irresistible force on the immovable object. Of course, Mina had always been everything he wasn't.

Sunshine to his storm, light to his darkness, laughter to his silence, the woman he'd given everything to…until he took everything away with a singularly colossal mistake. He hadn't realized until then exactly how much of him she filled. He knew he loved her, knew she was part of his life, hadn't understood that she was half of his soul. He didn't deserve her forgiveness; wouldn't ask it. Nor ask her to forget what had been done. But he would be by her side again. Now, he stood half of whole, a shadow waiting for his substance to return. To return to her. He would. He would return to her, to his heart, to his soul, and would never let her go again. Nothing would stop him. For this, Kunzite waited.

000

_My generals, I need your presence._

The call came, and they answered.

**We are here, our Prince.**

_A decision is to be made._

**We listen.**

There was a pause, and all four wondered. What had brought him this time? And why did he seem so pleased and worried at the same time? Thoughts sparked between them, instantaneous communication between four friends closer than blood.

_My friends…my brothers._

His thoughts echoed theirs eerily, and they tensed for what was to come.

_My wife's guardians remember you. Remember their past. Remember your past._

Shock, fear, despair, hope. Three stumbled over themselves to question this statement, one remained reserved, patient to wait until they were done.

**They remember? How?**

**Do they hate us?**

**Why do you tell us this?**

The final question rang quietly.

**What do they wish of us, Prince?**

They all felt the satisfaction of his answer.

_For you to return._

There was an indeterminable pause as they absorbed that. Faster than thought they discussed it among themselves, joy and terror warring within them. As one they asked.

**Why?**

His answer was all they could wish.

_Because they wish the return of the other halves of their souls. Will you grant them this? Will you once again walk as men?_

This time there was no thought before their response.

**Yes.**

His pleasure washed over them.

_Then prepare, my brothers, for the guardian of Time and my wife will bring you forth as men. _

Then, softly,

_And glad I will be to have my brothers by my side again. I welcome you home, my friends._

And so they prepared, prepared for the day they would once again walk on the Earth, the day they would seek the other half of their souls.

**We are coming home.**


	3. Awakening: Kunzite

As the highest ranked, it was his honor to be the first revived. Though, to be honest, Kunzite wasn't sure if that pleased him or not. The ceremony was simple enough; Zoisite and Nephrite would understand its complexities better than he cared to. He felt himself unfold from stone, stretch upwards to his full height. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to actual sight, and he blinked slightly at the two women before him before he bowed to the slighter of the two.

"My thanks, Queen." His voice was a bit rough with disuse; the soft thunder of it held notes of strain. As he straightened, Usagi put out a hand to him, her smile a benediction. He took it gently, as he always did, half afraid that this little, fragile looking woman would break under the pressure of his grip, even though he knew how very strong she was.

"You don't need to thank me, Kunzite. Truly, we should have done this sooner, and I apologize that it has taken this long." She looked up at him with such sincere blue eyes that he couldn't doubt her, however much he wanted to protest her words. She shook her head, somehow seeing his denial, and the smile that graced her face dimmed slightly. "No, it's true. As soon as the girls got their memories back, I should've asked. Please, forgive me for not acting as quickly as I should have."

Now he shook his head, and rebuffed her. "No, my Lady, perhaps this is best." His gaze was on her, but he no longer saw her; he saw a similar but so different pair of blue eyes in a sweet face framed by wheat-gold hair. "Memories so fresh may be…painful."

She studied him for a moment, head tilted like a bird. "Nooo…" she drew out, "I don't think you quite understand." She raised up on tiptoes and tapped his nose, and he suffered this blow to his dignity only because he dearly wanted to hear what she said next; hope rose in his chest, and it was a hard tide to stem. However, he quirked a brow at her to let her know that was the only reason he would put up with such a thing. So of course the impertinent little thing giggled.

However, since she also continued, he ignored it. She sobered, and sighed. "Mamoru didn't see the girls right after; he doesn't know. I do. As soon as they got their memories back…" she looked up at him and he couldn't help the clenching of his heart at the pain in her eyes, "they began to grieve."

"Small ways, at first, hard to see unless you were looking for them. The barest hint of a wince when they saw Mamo and I together, the distractedness, that _look_ that only someone who's lost their love would recognize." She smiled slightly at him, old pain tugging at her lips. "I recognized it. I knew." She shook her head again, the tails of her hair waved with the motion. "No, Kunzite, even when fresh, the memories were not so painful as not having the ones who featured in them at their sides."

The sentence was a bit muddled, but he understood. He didn't understand _why_, but he understood what she was saying. And that knowledge broke his heart open; the stone that had surrounded it for so long as he'd waited crumbled under that revelation, the flood of emotion those words unleashed a force he couldn't withstand. He had only enough strength to not bend double with the power of the physical reaction; his restraint slipped only with a barely audible gasp as he closed his eyes against his own response.

Compassionate eyes regarded him as he played statue, not able to trust that his body wouldn't betray him by trembling if he didn't exert strictest control. The telltale detail of his actual state was only revealed when he opened his eyes; they stormed, raged, cried out, _screamed _of his hectic joy, the wary, impossible hope he couldn't voice.

Usagi knew. She nodded slightly, seemingly pleased. "Good." He stared at her, blank-faced, unsure if she needed any more of him or if he was free to finally, finally seek out her out. She released him with a smile and a shooing motion. "Go, Kunzite, she's waiting."

He didn't leap into action, he didn't run, he didn't rush. He walked away from his queen and her guardian of Time, and towards the single brightest light in his life with a steady step. He didn't have to hurry; she was waiting for him, just as he'd waited. Now the waiting was over, and he would at last have her back in his arms. To keep, this time. This time, he would never let go; he'd been awakened.


End file.
